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Article 1
Article 1
ls angrily at the dog of an unbeliever who
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This is the title of Article 1

wo●uld trans

When endurance failed, I withdrew▓ to the only seat in evidence—a stone pile i▓n a far corner—to change the film in my ko▓dak.Almost before I had begun, a stead●y flow of humanity set in towards m▓e.In a twinkling I was the center o▓f a jostling throng of Damascans, eac▓h one screaming and pushing for a vi

e●w of the strange machine; and the players▓ struggled on despairingly

Article 2
Article 2
fix his image on photourned c p●aper. On
  • Article Two
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the Sunday afte

with only th▓emselves as audience.Distressed at ha▓ving unintentionally set up a counter attracti▓on, I closed the apparatus and turn●ed away.The move but aggravated the difficu▓lty.For a moment the Damasca●ns gazed hesitatingly from the deser●ted band stand to my retreating f▓igure, swelled with curiosit?/p>

坹, and surged pell-mell after me.My reputation● as a self-sacrificing

Project One
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Project One

rnoon of my a?/span>

member of society was at ▓stake.Bravely I turned and marched ▓back to the struggling musicians—the adje▓ctive, at least, is used advisedly—and hel●d the kodak in plain sight.An▓ unprecedented audience of music-lovers quickly ▓gathered and for a time the concer●t moved with great gusto.But the players ▓wer

e merely human, and only Arabian hum▓ans at that.One by one they caug

Project Two
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Project Two

駌rival in Damas

ht sight● of the “queer machine” below them.The techn●ique faltered; the trombones lost the key—or ●found it, which was quite as disc●oncerting; the fifers paused; the cornetists ●lost their pucker; the leader turned to s●tare, open-mouthed as the rest, a●nd an air that had suggested, here and t▓here, th

e triumphal march from Ada die▓d a lingering, agonizing death.▓ T

Collect from /
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cus a surging

his, surely, was the psychologic▓al moment for a photograph! I opene▓d the kodak.A hoarse murmur rose fro▓m the multitude.At last the▓y recognized the nefarious instrument! I pointe▓d it at the leader.He screamed ▓like a pin-pricked infant, a man beside me ●snatched at the kodak, another● thumped me vicious

ly in the r●ibs, a third tore at my hair, and the frenzied p▓opulati

Quotation
Quotation
The person who reads too much and uses his brain too little will fall into lazy habits of thinking.
— Albert Einstein
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Project Four

multitude sw●ep

on of Damascus swept down upon me, be▓nt on wreaking summary vengeance on a def●iler of their religious superstitions.●I left them entangled in the●ir own legs and darted under t▓he band stand towards the gate.A guar▓d bellowed at me.I squirmed through his arms▓ and sped far away through the half-deserted●

streets of the music-loving metrop▓olis. Darkness was falling whe?/p>

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t me through the

坣 I caught breath in some unknown co▓rner of the city.Long lines of mercha▓nts were setting up the board-shutters bef●ore their booths.Hardly a s▓traggler remained of the maudlin, d●aytime multitude.Dismally I wandered through● the labyrinth 135so animate a●t noonday, shut in on either side● by endless, hi

gh board fences.It matter▓ed not in what European language ●I inquir

entrance to
the ●parade gr
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ed for an inn from belated citiz▓ens; each one muttered “m’▓abarafshee,” and hurried on

.I sat down bef▓ore a lighted tobacco booth an▓d feigned sleep.The proprietor came out t▓o drive off the curs sniffing at my feet and led● the way to a neighboring khan, in whic▓h the keeper spread me a bed of blankets on th▓e cobblestone floor. I vent▓ured

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ound opposite

next day into the “Hotel Stam▓boul,” a proud hostelry facing the st▓able that serves Damascus as post office, wi▓th little hope either of making kno▓wn my wants or of finding the rate with▓in my means.The proprietor, s▓trange to say, mutilated a little French and, ▓stranger still, assigned me to a r●oom a

t eight cents a day.The cost o▓f living was thereby reduced to a mere

    the 134b
    Article 3 arrack●s.A sea of uptJuly faces surrounde?/span>
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    This is the title of Article Three

    馾 a ragged band

    nothing.▓ The Arab has a great abhorrence of eating● his fill at definite hours and p●refers to nibble, nibble all day long● as if in constant fear of losin▓g the use of his jaws by a moment’s ina●ctivity.Countless shops in Damascus cat●er to this nibbling trade.For● a copper or two they serve a well▓-fi

    lled dish of fruit, nuts, sweetm●eats, pastry, puddings, ragot, syrups,

    Project Seven
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    that was perp

    or▓ a variety of indigenous products and▓ messes which no Westerner could identify.●They are savory portions, too, for the● Arab cook, however much he may differ in m●ethods from the Occidental chef, knows his▓ profession.Like the street hawker wh●o sells a quart of raisins for a cent—the Moham●medan make

    s no wine—his prices seem scar▓cely worth the collecting; an●d be h

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    etrating a co●n

    is customer Frank or Mussulm●an, they never vary.In the seaports of the● Orient the whiteman must expect ●to be “done.” The ignoranc▓e and asininity of generations of touris▓ts have turned seaside merchants● into commercial vultures.In un●tutored Damascus not a shopkeeper attempt●ed to cheat me out of the

    fraction of a copper. ▓ Four days I had passed in Damascus● befor

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    日本漫画大全无翼乌

    e I turned to the proble▓m of how to get out of it.I had planned▓ to strike southwestward through the co●untry to Nazareth.On the map t▓he trip seemed easy.The journey from the

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    日本漫画大全无翼乌

    ●coast had proved, however, that the sketches ▓of the gazetteer were little to be trusted in● this mysterious country.Th▓e highway from the coast, moreov▓er, is one of the few roads in all th▓e land be

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    日本漫画大全无翼乌

    tween Smyrna and the Red● Sea.Across the Bedouin-infec▓ted wilderness between Damascus and Nazareth l●ay only a vaguely marked route, traversed in ●springtime by a great concourse of pilgrim

    cert of German and Italian airs.For a ▓time I
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